Domesticity
by gingerisourqueen
Summary: Sherlock was vaguely aware of a set of eyes on him as he measured out ammonium into a flask and held it up to the sun. Back to pouring, mixing, measuring. Were there eyes?  Of course not, why would John be watching him?


Sunlight streamed through the windows, enveloping 221B in a golden glow. John sat at the table, finishing off the last of his breakfast as Sherlock bustled around in the kitchen, fiddling with Bunsen burners and pouring chemicals between vials. A CD Lestrade had gifted them for Christmas was playing, a unique mix of John and Sherlock's favourite tracks. John was surprised at how well it had turned out - for two people with such different tastes in music**,** the composition of the two together was unexpectedly beautiful.

There was a crash in the kitchen and an impatient sigh from Sherlock. John chuckled quietly into his tea, wrapping his hands around the stripped porcelain mug. He tried to focus on something else in order to suppress his laughter as he heard a Petri dish clatter to the ground. He turned his attention to the empty plate in front of him. No, not empty; bits of scone were scattered around the edges. Concentrate on the crumbs. Crumbs. Crumbs. _Crash!_ A dot of red jam decorated one of the pieces, John squashed it lightly with the tip of his fork, watching it bleed through the prongs. Finally, the crashing stopped and he snuck at glance at his flatmate. The detective was back to pouring and mixing as if nothing had happened.

_Sherlock was just about to add the last drops of acid to the vial in front of him when he looked up at his flatmate. John was sipping quietly from his morning tea, tapping his foot lightly in time with the music. Crash! He looked down at his now unoccupied hand and then at the floor where a sizzling patch of green was slowly growing. That will stain, he thought, sighing as he reached for the cloth in a half hearted attempt to save the floorboards. When the rag started to yellow and dissolve at the edges he threw it back onto the table in frustration. Whoops, there went the liquid nitrogen. He tried to get back to his experiment, dropping a candy thermometer in the process as he reached for a beaker. He heard the scrapping of a fork against a plate and smiled to himself, looking up at John again just as he took another sip of his tea._

John swished the tea around in his mouth thoughtfully, savouring the warm mixture of the milk, honey and spices. He could have sworn he felt Sherlock looking at him just a second ago but he couldn't be sure. It was an odd day, John hadn't been needed at the clinic and Sherlock didn't have any big cases at the moment so they were both spending their mornings puttering around the flat. It was calm for a change – but it wasn't lonely, John found he was enjoying himself immensely. The mug chinked against his teeth as he took another sip of the Earl Grey, he wasn't still looking at him – was he? His eyes drifted slowly over to the corner of his vision and then back down at his drink. He inhaled slowly, the music in the background drowned out any movements coming from Sherlock in the kitchen. John quickly looked up and then down again, nope, not looking, definitely not looking. He chewed his lip, looking down at the milky swirls in his tea.

_Sherlock was vaguely aware of a set of eyes on him as he measured out ammonium into a flask and tried not to look in his flatmates direction as he held the vial up to the sun and shook it lightly. Back to pouring, mixing, measuring. Were there eyes? Of course not, why would John be watching him? He stirred in the iodine, watching it fade to yellow. Yellow, yellow, where had there been yellow? Ah, of course, the CD, one of John's favourites if he remembered correctly. Was he still looking at him? Had he ever been? What did it matter anyways? He had to know, it would annoy him for the rest of the day if he didn't find out. But if John hadn't been looking at him he would just look like a fool for staring at his flatmate when he had no reason to be. He let out a short huff, there was an experiment that needed doing._

One more look, John had decided, just one, and then he would clean off his plate and go upstairs. He couldn't very well spend the rest of the morning fidgeting with his tea.

_Sherlock had put down the ammonium and was now crushing up large chunks of salt. Once more, he thought, he couldn't let this one little mystery bother him so much when it was so easily solvable. He was a detective after all._

John felt like a child for doing so but he couldn't help counting down the numbers in his head.

_Sherlock put down the hammer when a piece of salt had flown across the table and took a deep breath in._

Three, two, one…

_Now._


End file.
